


His Rant

by htbthomas



Category: Scrubs
Genre: Gen, Yuletide 2008, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Cox is having a REALLY bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Rant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wickedfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedfox/gifts).



One of the things about being a doctor is that you have to do your best to put your personal problems aside during the day. It's all too easy to carry over a bad morning, like say, waking up in someone else's clothes in a house you don't recognize several miles from the nearest cell phone reception... but that's a story for another day.

The point is, the patients under your care don't have any idea what your day is like, and they are probably having one heck of a worse day than you are, anyway, especially if you're well enough to be actually walking around doing your rounds.

I tried to remember that as I sipped my Peppermint Half-Caf Soymilk Mocha Latte. "Oo!" I said, hissing. The beverage had burned my tongue. "That's thcalding hot!"

I set my venti-sized cup on the counter of the nurses' station beside Dr. Cox as hastily as I could. Then seizing a paper cup from the water cooler, I swiftly filled it with water and poured it down my throat. The pain dulled to a manageable level. "Ah, refrething..."

Dr. Cox, beside me, merely grunted.

Now that was completely unlike him. Usually he had some sort of insult or girl's name to greet me with. "Is there something wrong, Dr. Cox? You don't seem yourself."

"Just leave me alone, newbie," he responded, his voice gravelly and low.

"Oh, is that a sore throat? If you don't feel well, shouldn't you be at home, recovering?" I commiserated, laying a hand on his shoulder gently. "We need our top doctor in prime shape, to help us deal with the plague of winter cold complications!" I hoped my cheerful demeanor would lift his spirits.

He just stood there, his head hanging down, his eyes closed.

When he didn't shrug off my hand, or better yet, grab it in his firm manly grip to push me away, I got _really_ worried. "Perry?"

"Dr. Dorian..."

My heart soared a little. When he called me by my actual name, I knew that I was really getting through to him. Maybe this was going to usher in a brand new era of my career. Dr. Dorian and Dr. Cox, mentor and favorite pupil, partners in cure, famed through the Metro ar--

He snapped up to face me, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Look, Angelica, you _don't_ want to be messing with me today."

I gave it one more shot. "But Dr. Cox, I truly care about your well-being. After all it affects us all--"

"You care about my well-being? Oh, well that truly and deeply warms my heart. Knowing that the hospital's very own Florence Nightingale is hovering over me like an angel of healing, is _so_ very comforting."

"Really?" I said, a little surprised.

"_No,_ you clueless idiot. I have had the world's worst night that a father could possibly have. Up all night while my baby daughter was redecorating our bedroom with projectile vomit. Of course, it couldn't be her own room, could it, because the moment I got her cleaned and settled back into her crib, she would let out a wail like a banshee. I'm surprised that you didn't hear it all the way over here, because we were getting calls from New Zealand asking us to `stop whinging and keep it down.'"

"Awww," Elliot said, appearing at my shoulder. "Did widdle Jennifer have a tummy bug?"

"Oh, that reminds me of the time when Sam wouldn't burp after his bottle," I told her, feeling a touch of fatherly pride. "He made a little face like this..." I showed her my best baby impression. It was pretty darn good, if I do say so myself.

"I bet he looked just _adorable_," she squealed.

"Oh, can it, the two of you. Listening to you talk about babies makes _me_ want to projectile vomit all over that lovely haircut you got yesterday, Barbie," Cox growled.

"Oh, you really like it?" she said, lighting up.

"Oh, I think it suits you so well," I agreed. "I meant to say something yesterday, but with all the tests I had to run on Mrs. Walters yesterday, I just never got the chance..."

"Oh oh oh oh oh oh _oh my **God**_ will you just _shut up!?_ It isn't bad enough that I can _still_ smell rancid breastmilk in my hair, and have the sound of my daughter's screaming echoing around in my head, but the Bobbsy Twins are also nattering away right here where I can... still... see you!"

Turk came down the hallway to lean against the counter on the other side. "Isabella had about three months where she went through that same thing."

Carla, who had been on the other side of the nurses' station at the beginning of the conversation, came up to stand right in front of us. "The only thing that would calm her down was to rock her in the chair. Did you try that?"

"_Yes,_ we tried that. Jordan would start to rock her in the chair and then she would fall asleep. Only problem was, it was Jordan who would fall asleep instead of Jennifer! And the second that she stopped moving she was back to screaming again. And Jordan was so asleep she might as well have been dead. And since she would make my life more miserable than it _already_ is, I let her sleep."

Carla touched his arm. "Now that was sweet of you, Perry." Then Carla shot an annoyed look at Turk. "That's something _you_ could do every once in a while!"

Turk shrugged. "Can I help it if my body is timed like a precision clock?"

"He could sleep through a floor party at college," I agreed with a nod. "Which was great because it gave me an excuse not to go..."

Dr. Cox suddenly flung his arms out, his voice cracking in his rage. "Just _stop_! You want to know what finally worked? Singing to her. You know how much I hate it -- but she wanted to hear my tuneless voice for hours on end! And if I ever paused for longer than the time to think of another song, than she would start to wail or heave up more of her dinner. I had to sing just about every song I could ever think of, which wouldn't be a problem for _you_, Kristin," he gestured to me, "because you could probably sing the entire soundtrack of each and every one of this year's thrilling set of Tony award winners..."

I couldn't argue with that.

"But for me... well, let's just say that I hope to _God_ it's not too early to be introduced to a little AC/DC and Megadeth." He threw up his arms in frustration, giving each of us a furious stare. "And now I can hardly feel my vocal cords, but yet, I have to keep flapping my lips until you all understand that I just need to say--!"

At that moment, Jordan and her two kids, Jack and little J.D. (I was determined to keep using that name for Jennifer, even if I could only use it in my mind) came into the ward. The baby was sleeping, an angelic smile on her face. Jack clung to Jordan's pant leg, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"To say what, Perry? You have anything you want to say to _me_?" Jordan asked, her eyebrow raised.

Perry took a deep breath, and then let it all out at once, as if his anger was now completely dissipated. "Nope," he croaked. "You ready for lunch?"

Jordan threaded her hand through his elbow, and they walked down the hallway together toward the cafeteria.


End file.
